Field of Foxgloves
by Victorious Loser and Ermiene
Summary: This is a rather short story about General Woundwort before he became the villain he was. I'll admit it's sad and dark in places. Hence the name, and the rating, which may be a bit high. It's also my first ever fanfiction. Please R&R.
1. The Hlessi

**Right. So obviously, I own neither the characters nor the plot of Watership Down. Only Richard Adams does.**

1. The Hlessi

The brisk north wind ruffled Inlethlay's fur, sending a chill through her. She shivered. The grass she was nibbling on was covered in frost and getting old. Soon she would have to leave her territory immediately around her burrow in search of food. Winter was on its way, and it was making that perfectly clear.

Suddenly, a rustling sound came from the twisted brambles behind Inlethlay. She froze, startled. Images of lendri and homba flashed before her eyes. Slowly, she turned. "Who's there?" she called. Inlethlay was at silflay alone; if the stranger was hostile then that could mean the end of her. But no predator came flying out of the brush to kill her. Instead, the stranger hopped out. He was a rabbit, but not what she had expected. This was no warren rabbit: he was obviously a hlessi. His fur was ragged, and his ears torn either in a fight or from being shot by humans.

"Oh. You're… a rabbit," Inlethlay said, trying to make up for her previous lack of courtesy. "What do you want?"

"I'm no elil, that's true," the buck laughed. "My name is Teasel. I was wondering if perhaps you knew of a burrow I could winter in?"

"No, I do not know of any empty burrows," Inlethlay answered. "But you're welcome to stay in mine, Teasel."

So that winter, Teasel and Inlethlay stayed together. Teasel proved to be much different than Inlethlay had first thought. While he was reckless and rash, he was quite charming as well. When spring finally arrived, Teasel still was living in Inlethlay's burrow- and there were five kits as well.

Woundwort edged out of his burrow, his nose twitching. The largest and toughest of last year's litter of kits, he quickly had established himself as the leader. No decision was made unless Woundwort had a say- that was, at least, unless Teasel or Inlethlay was involved. Inlethlay always said she was proud of Woundwort. He was exactly what was wanted in a rabbit: tough, smart, and cunning.

Woundwort leaped from the mouth of the burrow. "Hawthorne! I need to talk to you," he barked. Hawthorne was Woundwort's only competitor, and the smartest kit from the litter. Presently, he was busy nibbling at a patch of clover.

"What is it _this _time?" Hawthorne snapped, annoyed.

"What happened to my plantain?" Woundwort growled. He had hidden a few leaves, but then they had gone missing. And the only rabbit the enough brains (and guts) to steal from Woundwort was Hawthorne.

Hawthorne kept his mouth shut as Woundwort bore down on him, showing his huge teeth in warning. Without warning, the larger rabbit sprung, and cuffed Hawthorne across the face. Hawthorne squealed, and dove into the burrow. Woundwort's attack was not all unexpected; he had a tendency to be violent. While it didn't worry Inlethlay or Teasel, it worried Hawthorne. The full-grown rabbits almost never even saw Woundwort behave cruelly. He was smart enough to only show his bad side around the other kits.

That night, when Teasel came back from silflay, he smelled strange. It was a smell the other rabbits could not identify. This wasn't all that unusual; the burrow was near a cottage yard, and often Teasel would come back smelling like the humans. However,_ this_ smell was something no one recognized.

"I thought you said you were going to the farmer's," Inlethlay accused. "What did you _really_ do, you silly buck?"

"I did go to the farmer's, Inle," Teasel replied. "It's a long story; I'll try to make it as brief as possible. Please don't be mad, Inle, what happened was not my fault."

Inlethlay looked doubtful.

"No, Inlethlay, don't give me that," Teasel said. "I was on the road to the farm, when I heard the human. I'm not stupid, Inle, so I got out of there as quick as possible. I got some cabbage from the garden (it's in the entrance, by the way), and left. But then the human pointed this black stick at me, and it exploded, letting out this horrible smell."

"Teasel, I'm warning you, don't go back there again," Inlethlay snapped, worried for Teasel's safety. "It's dangerous. Who knows what might have happened? Exploding sticks… what next?"

"Don't worry, Inle. I won't do it again. Tomorrow, I'll come back early. I'll be back to the burrow before Ni-Frith," Teasel promised, though he had the full intention of getting cabbage and greens from the farmer's garden until nightfall, every night.

Inlethlay nodded, thinking Teasel would keep true to his word. However, the next day, Teasel left the burrow, headed down the small dirt track that led to the farm.

It wasn't a particularly long trip; the vegetable patch was very close to the burrow. Teasel went out at dawn, and arrived at the farm just as the sun came up. He heard a rooster crowing. "Good morning!" he yelled happily. The prospect of getting to spend the entire day chowing down on carrots and lettuce was more than a little appealing. "What's the news around the farm? I hope the farmer's not been too active lately."

"You're out of luck!" the rooster squawked. Teasel laid back his ears. Did the bird _have _to be so loud?

"Lower you voice!" Teasel snapped. "And what do you mean by 'you're out of luck'?"

"Old farmer nearly shot a rabbit last night! A rabbit like you!" the rooster crowed, obviously not bothered by his news. He flapped up into the air in a flurry of feathers, and landed back in the roost.

_Well, great. Whatever he means by that, it can't be anything too nice,_ Teasel thought to himself. But he didn't want to leave yet. He had just arrived, why should he go because of some probably false rumor the rooster told him? Teasel started working on the kale. It would be better if Inlethlay would still come here with him. She refused to unless she was nearly starving. _Inle is much too cautious. Like anything could happen_, Teasel thought. He wondered where the other bucks were. Usually they came to the farm around this time. Something must have scared them off, the cowards. Maybe it was the incident from the previous night.

What Teasel _didn't_ know was that the farmer was onto his case. Last night had been the last straw. He was fed up with losing vegetables to rabbits. It was time to take action. The farmer had hidden behind a skip-laurel next to the house behind the potato patch with his dog. As soon as that pesky rabbit he had _nearly_ shot yesterday came back, well, that was going to be the end of him.

Teasel hopped slowly into the potato patch. Who gave a care if the other rabbits never came? That meant more food for him! Just as he sank his teeth into an old tuber, he heard a noise louder than anything he had ever heard before, and smelled the same disgusting smell as he had the night before then. A split second later, he felt like someone had taken a knife and slashed his leg open, though no one had been behind him.

"YES! I got him! Bring it here, Mike!" the farmer yelled, jumping out from behind the bushes. Teasel stared in horror, unable to move, as the farmer set the dog on him. He bared his teeth, unwilling to go without a good fight.

"You'll never catch me alive," he hissed, as the dog bounded forward to retrieve the shot rabbit.

"At least you're right about that." Mike smiled horribly, and snatching Teasel in his huge jaws, shook him to death as if he were nothing. The dog trotted back to his master, the body of Teasel swinging limply from his mouth.

"Good boy, Mike!" the farmer praised, taking the corpse from his dog. "We'll have rabbit stew tonight! Now, to catch the rest of those tricky little buggers."

Yet back at the burrow, Inlethlay waited with anxiety for Teasel to come back. He had been out at silfay for an awfully long time and she was worried. Woundwort nudged her. "What, Woundwort?" Inlethlay asked.

"Go to silflay," Woundwort said curtly. "I'll wait for father."

Inlethlay nodded. "Fine, Woundwort." She went to her patch of spring clover, and began to eat.

By noon, Teasel had still not returned. It seemed the hlessi was gone for good.

Hawthorne hopped to where Woundwort was keeping watch. "Something's wrong," he said. "Father promised to be back by Ni-Frith. He should have kept to his word."

"Do I look like an idiot? I know! And do you know what this means? Something must have gone wrong at the farm. Put two and two together: the farmer wants him, and all of us, dead. Now Teasel is gone. Therefore…" Woundwort stopped himself. "Go away, Thorny. I can handle this."

Then, from the distance, Hawthorne heard the sound of footsteps coming their way: Human footsteps.


	2. The Black Rabbit

2. The Black Rabbit Arrives

"Mother!" Hawthorne shouted. "There's a human coming our way!"

Inlethlay was terrified, and for a good reason. Humans _never_ showed kindness (or even toleration) to rabbits. She had learned this early in life. Inlethlay flew into action. "Get into the burrow, kits! _Now!_ Hurry!" she yelled, while rounding up her litter.

Hawthorne, however, refused. "Mother, don't you see? The burrow only has one entrance! The second isn't completed, and we'll be trapped!" he shouted, frantic. Inlethlay did not see his reason, however. Furious that her kit was disobeying her in such a crisis, she pushed him roughly into the burrow_. There isn't enough time to get in an argument_, she thought. _Wasting time in a debate could be the end of us._

The rabbits huddled in the far corner of the burrow, shivering in fright, as scuffling noises came from the entrance hole. Suddenly, all light was blocked out. Inlethlay gasped as she saw a glinting metal object thrust into the earth only a few feet away: a shovel. The farmer, having finished with the buck rabbit, had followed his trail, with the help of Mike the Staffordshire terrier, back to the burrow. He was at wits end with the rabbit, which happily chewed up and spoiled his crops.

"Kits, we have to get out of here!" Inlethlay yelled, the realization finally hitting her that they were indeed trapped. Hawthorne muttered something to himself about his mother not foreseeing this situation, before setting the example and bolting from the den. The rest of the kits followed suit, bounding after their brother. Woundwort stayed behind, not wanting to put himself in danger. He ran only after the other rabbits had gone.

Just as he came out of the burrow, the world seemed to violently explode. Woundwort glanced over his shoulder in time to see one of his sisters fall head over heels, before laying still. The farmer was pointing a large, black stick in her direction. Woundwort didn't have time to investigate: if he stopped, he'd be shot as well. He quickened his pace somehow (he didn't know how he managed it; he had been running as fast as he could before), and caught up with his remaining family.

"We- need- to get to- the downs," he panted to Inlethlay.

"NO!" Hawthorne shouted. "We'd- be too- exposed. Lendri could- find us!"

"Just do what he--" Inlethlay began, but as she spoke, the farmer pulled the trigger once more, the pellet this time hitting Inle. She squealed and stumbled, but the farmer had only grazed her flank, and so she continued to run.

_So this is what it comes down to,_ Woundwort thought grimly. _We're running for our lives, like the cowards we are. _

Woundwort noticed what looked like a safe place to slip under the barbed-wire fence of the farm to get to the relative safety of the downs. He turned to Hawthorne to propose his idea, only to realize that his brother was not behind him. The young buck paused momentarily, his eyes traveling over the trail they had come down on. Hawthorne was nowhere in sight. With an inward sigh, Woundwort once again bolted after his mother, and with a jerk of his head indicated that they should run through the gap in the fence. Inlethlay was quick to comply. She knew her son was probably right, and that the downs, while exposed, were safer than the farm.

Both rabbits flew through the wire barrier at the same time, and immediately plopped down on the ground on the other side, too tired to move. Woundwort jumped up, hearing a fierce snarling noise, but it was only Mike. Having finally caught up, the compact little terrier, furious that his quarry had escaped, was ferociously vocalizing his anger from the other side of the fence. Woundwort was tempted to call the dog rude names, but decided against further aggravating the predator, mostly because he didn't have the breath to say much of anything.

"Where are- the others?" Inlethlay gasped, ending the silence. Woundwort did not know how to respond. How was he supposed to tell his mother that all of her other beloved children were most likely dead, and headed for the dinner plates of humans?

"They… stopped running," he replied, finally, using the term rabbits used in place of bluntly saying "they died". Inlethlay just turned her head, burying her nose in the long grass of the downs. Her son went to her side and began licking the scratches from the shotgun pellets, doing what little he could do to comfort her. Inlethlay never said a word; the only noise she made was to whimper, more from the pain of her loss than from that of her injury.

"What's that noise?" Woundwort said suddenly, hearing a rustling in the hedge behind them.

"Don't wait to find out. Hide!" Inlethlay snapped, pushing her last kit away. She wasn't about to lose her only remaining child.

Woundwort didn't need telling twice. His mother's tone at that moment would have been enough to make even the toughest, largest buck obey. The little rabbit dove into a nearby clump of long canary grass, and scooted down until only the tips of his ears could be seen. Inlethlay turned to face the noise they had heard before. If she had to, she would distract the predator, as long as Woundwort got away safely.

What happened next was so fast neither rabbit had time to react. A large brown blur flew out of the hedge, bowling over Inlethlay, before quickly turning around and attacking her again. The weasel seized Inlethlay by the back of her neck and sliced down with its large canine teeth. One last squeal died in the rabbit's throat before she sank to the ground, unmoving.

Woundwort couldn't help himself. He screamed as if it had been him being killed, but the weasel ignored him. It already had a kill, and did not need to make another one. With Woundwort looking on in horror, the weasel began to tear at Inlethlay's body, making a meal of the rabbit. _This cannot be happening,_ Woundwort thought, crying softly to himself. He turned his face away from the gruesome sight, though he could still hear the weasel enjoying its dinner.

After what seemed like hours, the young rabbit heard the weasel move away from his mother's corpse. Woundwort looked back over his shoulder at Inlethlay, only to lock eyes with her killer. The weasel slowly advanced on him, velvety nose quivering, beady black eyes shining maliciously.

Just when Woundwort thought he would for sure be the weasel's next victim, the weasel whirled on its hind paws, sending dust and pebbles flying. As the weasel ran off, Woundwort crawled over to his mother. He glanced quickly at her mangled side, and burst out with a loud, painful scream. Even now, he knew that he could not survive in the wild on his own. With no living relatives, he was doomed to a slow death by starvation. It was either that or being eaten by elil. He didn't know which would be worse. Whimpering, he buried his face in Inlethlay's soft fur, as it just being in contact with her dead body gave him comfort.

Woundwort would have never admitted to being this weak in front of his siblings. But that didn't matter now. He knew that they were as dead as the barely warm body of his mother.

It was just then when Woundwort heard footsteps approaching for the second time that day. He didn't even bother to look up at the human. It wasn't worth it. The rabbit knew he was going to die, and faced his fate with despair only. He had none of the energy and tenacity he was known for left. If anything, he was rather upset that the human was not allowing him to die in peace.

Suddenly, he felt himself being lifted. Woundwort squealed and kicked his hind legs in a desperate effort to free himself.

"Stop that! That's enough," the human said. The young rabbit, however, could not understand him, and kept fighting. Eventually he found himself being stuffed into a pocket of a large wool jacket. Being inside the warm coat felt much better than being in the crisp evening air, the rabbit thought. Woundwort became aware of the fact that the human was taking him somewhere, but could not tell which direction he was headed. Exhausted, he finally fell asleep, still sniffling quietly to himself.

**I am quite slow at updating (and writing long chapters), aren't I? My apologies. **

**Look! There's a little blue button down there, and you just **_**know**_** you want to click it. Come on, it isn't **_**that**_** hard… Humongous thanks to y'all that do review. **


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